Run (10 page)

       I dropped my head onto his shoulder, burrowing into the crook of his neck. “Maybe you need to put up a higher fence around it,” I mumbled into his neck. His answering chuckle vibrated through me.

       The last time someone’d held me and meant it was my mother. She gave fantastic hugs, and when I’d kicked her out of my house a year and a half ago, she’d wrapped me in her arms like I was a small child and she’d chase away the bullies.

       But I’d had to work through it on my own then, and I had do it now.

       “You’re going to have to let me fall apart.” I left my head where it was. “I don’t know if that’s what’s going to happen.” I hadn’t lost it, not completely, since six months after Deirdra’s death and I learned I wouldn’t be going back to work. Adam’s threat, the cold metal of my car seeping through my clothes, his hands like titanium bands on my arms, could have wiped out all the forward steps I’d made and I’d end up in tears, curled in the fetal position on my living room floor.

       I wondered why it hadn’t.

       “Mind if I stick around?”

       “Long as you don’t try to help.” I tipped my head back. “I’ve got to find a way to live with this. The guilt. The knowledge it might have turned out differently if I’d only done what I was supposed to. I can’t do that if I let someone else do the heavy lifting.”

       The uncertainty on his face was hard to see. I wanted to. I wanted someone else to fix me, because I’d been trying for three years without success. But this past year of moving from place to place, trying to shove the guilt into a tiny box so I could nail it shut, had given me more of a spine than I’d thought. I was wrecked inside. Held together with duct tape and some string, suffered through sleepless nights and a restless sort of anxiety that stole my appetite and pushed me toward things that may not be so good for me.

       Yet somehow, I was better off than I’d been a year ago.

       “I mean it, Trevor,” I said softly. “You barely know me. I want you to stick around. Get to know the me that’s not burdened with a mistake she can’t fix. She’s in there. It’ll take some time to find her, but I have to do it myself.”
I don
’
t want you to hate me. Not after you
’
ve tossed me this lifeline.

       “How you gonna sleep in this place? It’s like a sauna. Why’s your air conditioner not on?”

       I blinked at the abrupt change of topic, the grin starting slow, a mere twitching of lips. “Sleeping’s hard,” I admitted. “Especially with the smell. The unit’s been out as long as I’ve been here. Landlord keeps saying he’ll fix it.” I eased out of his arms and walked into the tiny kitchen, tugged the window open. The stench of the alley rushed through the screen.

       Trevor cleared his throat, and I turned to see his face scrunched in defense against the smell. “You got a serious problem there.”

       “Dumpster right below. It’s worse when it’s freshly emptied. Stuff that broke through the bags on the bottom and leaked out. It’s not as bad in the bedroom.” The entire apartment was about five hundred square feet, but the added distance helped.

       He shook his head. “You’re gonna want to move soon. I don’t like this place.”

       Three loud, rapid
cracks
prevented me from responding, making me flinch instead. “What was that?”

       Trevor strode over and pulled me out of the kitchen, shoving me into the tiny bathroom, the one room in the place without a window. “Gunshots.”

       Oh.
Oh
. “Like, with guns?”

       His mouth was a thin slash above his chin. “Doesn’t happen any other way. Stay here a moment.” He shut the door, and I huddled on the floor in front of the sink. Wondering where he was going.

       My brain hiccupped and turned over. He’d gone outside. To find the source of the gunshots. Of course.

       I scrambled to my feet and ripped open the door. I checked the bedroom and kitchen first, hoping I’d find him there. They were both empty, so I hurried to the living room. The front door was hanging open, and I darted outside and onto the landing. He was standing in the middle of the parking lot, scanning the street.

       The stairs creaked underfoot as I ran down them. He glanced over as I approached, scowling. “Do you know where they came from? The shots?”

       “No. No sirens yet. I’m going to take a wild guess and say you haven’t heard anything like that before.”

       “Not that I remember.” The heat pressed in, but I wrapped my arms around myself to control the shakes.

       I stepped back when he reached out. The scowl settled deeper into the lines on his face. “Call your friend. See if you can stay with her.”

       What friend? And where the hell had this bossy man come from? I liked the other Trevor. The sweetheart. The easygoing, undemanding one. “I already told you I don’t know anyone well enough to impose on them. And I’m not going anywhere. This is where I live. I have a door that locks. If it makes you feel better, I’ll shut all the windows.”

       I took a step forward, then another. His mouth was close enough I could touch it if I stretched, so I did. Rose up on my toes, a soft brush of lips. “I appreciate the concern.” Soft words, meant to calm. “Thanks for coming to the show with me.” Back away, go inside, put some space between us. I had to stand on my own, and he had to let me. The smile felt foreign on my face, muscles straining to hold it. “I’ll call you.”

       Across the lot, up the stairs, into the sweltering, close air of my apartment. I’d shut the door and lock him out and hope that radio silence for a day or two would help us get our heads on straight. To go beyond the damaged woman and the man with the hero complex.

       Because for the first time in months, I wanted to build something.

       The
click
of the lock wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I’d like. I’d had a suspicion when I moved in the neighborhood was less than savory, the trash scattered across the parking lot, buildings with boarded up windows and spray-painted tags, crumbling from disrepair, rusted trucks sitting idle in lots, waiting for someone to come along and burn them. The bright sunlight was misleading, though, and I’d thought it was a case of down on its luck. Not danger.

       
Thud
.

       
Thud.

       The door rattled in its frame. “McKenna. Open up.” Trevor’s voice was muffled by the cheap wood.

       Stupid me, I did.

       He had his hands in his back pockets and a scowl on his face. “What?” I asked. He kept his mouth shut, his eyes locked on mine, and I let out an irritated sigh. “Did you want something?”

       He took a step forward, then another, moving until there was only a few inches between us. He freed a hand from his pocket and took mine, threading our fingers together. “You don’t want to leave, you mind if I stay with you tonight? Give me a little peace of mind?”

       My apartment couldn’t be
that
unsafe. “Trevor—”

       “Your neighborhood has one of the highest crime rates in the city.” His mouth firmed into a grim line. “I don’t like the thought of you bein’ in here alone.”

       After the run-in with Adam and the gunshots outside, I wasn’t all gung ho about sleeping alone, but I didn’t want him there because he thought he needed to protect me, either. “You really want to share my uncomfortable bed for the night?”

       He nudged me aside and moved into the living room. “How uncomfortable are we talking?”

       I shot the deadbolt home, switched off the light, and led him to the bedroom. I turned on the box fan perched on top of the dresser, hoping it would cool the room eventually. The covers were rumpled from the nap I’d taken earlier, and I pulled them back, shed my clothes, and climbed on. The heat settled over me like a blanket, the fitful breeze of the fan doing little to stir the air.

       Trevor stripped to the skin and stretched out. The mattress shifted under his weight, and he grunted in surprise. “Shit. How do you sleep on this thing?”

       “Depends on how tired I am. Most nights, I get a couple solid hours because I’m so worn out, spend the rest of it lying awake and staring at the window.”

       “Jesus.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in. “C’mere.”

       Turning my face into his neck, breathing in the scent of him, the shadows deepening around us, I relaxed, little by little.

       “McKenna?”

       “Mmm?”

       “There’s a spring digging into my hip.”

       Snorting, I scooted over, and he shifted closer. “Piece of work.”

       “Shut up,” I mumbled. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

       He chuckled. “Nope.”

Chapter Eleven

       The car was stifling, having sat in the sun all day long. Wind whipped through it, blowing in hot air, carrying it back out, mostly just stirring things up without cooling them off. But the tires kept rushing over the sun-softened blacktop, the roar of noise filling my head and shutting out thought, and that was all that mattered.

       The lights of Austin faded behind me, the faint glow of the now departed sun in front, a thin, dying strip on the horizon. The dull edge of homesickness sharpened and sliced through, and I gripped the wheel tighter.

       I hated how it rose at the most inopportune times. Like now. I was in the car, the car was pointing in the right direction. I had my wallet and my phone. I
could
just keep going. I wasn’t ready. While most of the whispers and covert looks had melted away after a year, I still felt everyone’s eyes on me in the grocery store, or when I walked around the neighborhood. And until I made my peace, I couldn’t go back.

       A dirt road veered off the edge of the highway, running between some wire fencing. No gate blocked the road, so I pulled onto it and bounced away from the highway, from the lonely cars and the noise.

       I climbed out of the car and boosted myself onto the hood, hissing as the heated metal stung my hands. Should have let it cool off some. I didn’t feel like lying in the grass, though, so the car hood it was.

       Trevor had left my apartment early in the morning, muttering about my awful mattress. I hadn’t heard from him all day, and I couldn’t decide if I was grateful or disappointed. Both, I supposed. I could let my neuroses off the leash for a while when he wasn’t around, but the sad thing was, he was fast becoming the dam that held them in check.

       That quiet strength, the solid shoulder to rest my head on…I’d needed them far more than I’d thought. Both things I’d gotten in Bend from a few corners, yet his was the one that penetrated. I didn’t want to think about why that was, or what would happen when I moved on.

       Because I would. And he’d stay here, his strength and shoulder available for the next person who needed them.

       My phone rang, buzzing angrily against my hip, and I squirmed around, working it out of my back pocket. I squinted at the read out. Trevor. “Hello?”

       “Hey. You make it home all right?”

       He would ask. The little I knew of Trevor had shown me he was a rare man among men; he
cared
and he wasn’t afraid to let you know.

       “I glanced around. The grass hid the creatures rustling the stalks from prying eyes, leaving the landscape a gentle rolling one, full of stars and dust and heat. The hood of my car burned through my jeans, and I shifted in discomfort. “Honestly? I have no idea where I am. I just got in the car and drove. I’m in a field. There was a fence, but no gate. Probably trespassing or something. Are there ranches or anything out here?” From what I knew of Texas, they didn’t do a lot of farming. Not enough water.

       Trevor’s laugh soothed some of the nerves jumping under my skin. “Long as you don’t go anywhere near their precious cattle, you’ll be fine. What do you see?”

       A thick blanket of night. The stars weren’t as close as they were just outside of Bend, but I still felt if I put up a ladder I might be able to reach them. “I’d forgotten what they’d looked like. The stars. Bend’s a pretty good sized town, but you don’t have to travel far to get away from the lights. The stars are so close you think if you stretch just far enough you can touch them.”

       “Can’t remember the last time I got out of the city at night like that.”

       
I wish you were out here with me
. I pushed the thought away. It was like a snuggly security blanket—comforting, warm, but sometimes you had to go without, see if you could survive. His voice in my ear was enough. “You should try it some time.”

       I squirmed a little, relieving the sting on my ass. I should have put a blanket down first. The gap where the hood met the windshield dug into my lower back. “What did you do all day?” I asked.

       “Picked up a few hours on a landscape crew. Caught some of the game. How was your shift?”

       The stars seemed closer now, bearing down, pressing into me. “Busy. My feet are numb, back’s sore. Tommy ended up burning a whole batch of burgers about halfway through dinner service, and it threw everything off. People were rowdy as hell tonight.” Running back and forth, placating diners when their food took longer than they thought it should, trying to keep orders straight, had helped hold back the demons for most of the night.

       Then I’d gotten in the car, picked a direction, and went, clinging to the blankness in my brain. “Talk to me. I’m tired enough I could fall asleep.”

       “Shit, McKenna, don’t tell me something like that.”

       I blinked up at the sky. “Sorry.” My body hadn’t been able to get past the desperate need for space. “I can always sleep in my car. I doubt the rancher will mind.”

       “Guess I’ll have to work extra hard on this conversation then, keep you entertained.”

       “Guess so.” The heat didn’t feel as suffocating out here. It was a caress, the soft touch, floating over my skin. “Go ahead. Dazzle me with your conversational skills.”